In the finite sunshine
Clouds move in,
They darken the mood
And sway the mind.
What was found in stride
Has been lost,
What was newly discovered,
Has been forgotten.
In the endless sea
Whose waves churn fierce,
All things, yes, all things
Are always reborn.
Yet nothing new arises.
There is no originality.
All things, yes, all things
Are completely recycled.
Even death isn\'t unknown.
It maybe individually new,
But life has been ceasing
As long as it has been birthing.
In every life
There is profound death!
In every struggle,
There is an expiration.
In the endless sea,
Whose waves churn fierce,
All things, yes all things
Are constantly dying.
Yet nothing kills life;
It never ceases.
All things, yes, all things
Ebb and flow in life.